


running just as fast as we can

by orphan_account



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Canon Compliant, Domestic Fluff, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Future Fic, M/M, New Relationship, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, References to Homophobia, Virginity
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-26
Updated: 2020-01-26
Packaged: 2021-02-27 04:47:36
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,085
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22411252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: The biggest surprise of tonight isn't the fact that Steve cooked an entire meal and didn't burn the house down.No, the real surprise of the night is that Billy Hargrove is a virgin.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Comments: 34
Kudos: 385





	running just as fast as we can

**Author's Note:**

> My hindbrain, in the middle of me writing a different huge story: But what if Billy was a virgin? 
> 
> Me: ... _Goddamnit_. 
> 
> As the tags say this is canon compliant, except Billy didn't die and the Byers didn't move away. As always, much love and thanks to Bunny, who always reads what I write.
> 
> Title is from Tiffany's I Think We're Alone Now.

Steve's not nervous. 

Steve is the farthest thing from nervous. He's excited. _He's anticipating_. 

He and Billy have been dating - Steve’s wording, not Billy’s, because Billy is what Nancy would call _emotionally constipated_ \- for the past month, and Steve can count on one hand how many times they've gotten off together. It’s the worst thing that’s ever happened to Steve, even worse than almost getting eaten by a demodog all those years ago. Billy's face should be criminalized. His body should be an international crime. Wars should be started over Billy's mouth. Steve’s just about jacked himself raw this past month just _thinking_ about Billy’s mouth. 

The only reason that it’s Steve’s own hand on his dick instead of Billy’s is because they’re constantly surrounded by other people. Steve’s roommates are pretty cool about his _good friend_ Billy coming over to hang out a lot, but it’s not like Steve and Billy can just mosey up to Steve’s room for several hours without the guys getting suspicious, and Billy’s dorm at the local college is the size of a stamp and he still has to share it with a roommate, plus Max stays over a couple nights every week. 

They’re constantly surrounded by people, which means that Steve can’t reel Billy in and make out with him any time he wants. It also means that the most Billy and Steve have done so far is quick, frenzied kissing, the occasional grope over clothes, and a few quick handjobs in locked bathrooms. 

It’s basically the worst.

Today, though, both of Steve’s roommates are gone for the entire night because Bon Jovi is playing a concert in Fort Wayne. Steve had been invited, but he’d told the guys that he was scheduled for a shift at Joe’s Pizza. He’d then asked his boss for the night off. 

Steve has a plan. 

Well, Steve has half of a plan. He has the basics of a plan, and the basics are these: Billy is going to come over. Billy and Steve are going to have sex. 

It’s a pretty flawless plan. Steve’s almost like a master tactician. 

Dustin calls just as Steve is shoving his roommates shit into the nearest closet. 

“Steve, my man!” Dustin crows. It sounds like he’s at the pizza place - where he also works, because Joe made Steve a manager six months ago and Steve’s not above using nepotism. 

“Hey,” Steve says. He tries not to strangle himself with the phone cord as he picks up the plates and beer bottles scattered across the kitchen countertop. “I can’t really-” 

“Joe said you asked for tonight off,” Dustin says. There’s a loud clanging and a yell from behind him, which Dustin ignores. “What are you up to?” 

“I’m not-” Steve stops and sighs, because Dustin is tenacious when it comes to gossip. “It’s nothing, I just wanted a night off.” 

“Because I think,” Dustin continues, like Steve hadn’t said anything, “that maybe you have a date.” 

“Dustin,” Steve says. He sighs again. “I don’t have a date, I just wanted a night off. That’s all.” 

“I was thinking,” Dustin says, drawing the word out. “Maybe you’ve got a date with that super rad girl I set you up with last week.” 

Steve stops what he’s doing and puts one hand on his hip. “One,” he says, “that was not a set up. You told her you needed advice about college, and you told me that a customer was complaining and wanted to speak to a manager. That’s not a date.” 

“She was pretty cute,” Dustin says in what he clearly thinks is a wheedling tone. 

“Two,” Steve says severely. “You’re only sixteen. Stop trying to set me up just because you now actually have a girlfriend who lives in the same town as you.” 

Dustin sighs happily. It sounds gross and wet in Steve’s ear. “I love Sally.” 

“Three,” Steve says. “Get a life.” 

He hangs up the phone, then has to disentangle himself from the phone cord. It rings again a second later, but Steve leaves it in the receiver. He has things to do; right now, mainly, make the apartment look like it’s not a disgusting pigsty that belongs to three guys in their early twenties. 

It’s pretty stupid, Steve knows. Billy’s over a lot, so he knows what the house normally looks like. It’s just that Steve wants tonight to be nice. He wants it to be like- well, like a date. There’s no way for Steve and Billy to go on a date anywhere in Hawkins, and Steve’s got some vague half-formed plans that involve going down to Indianapolis, but they don’t ever get a chance to just hang out, the two of them, as boyfriends. Every time he hears Nancy and Jonathan laughingly interrupt each other to tell stories when they call, or watches El and Mike hold hands when they walk, he feels bummed that he and Billy can’t have that. 

He’ll never tell Billy that he’s jealous of a pair of teenagers. Billy would laugh himself stupid then call Steve a sap. 

Steve still likes him, even though he’s such an asshole. Steve likes Billy so much that he sometimes feels embarrassed about it. 

The phone rings again, and Steve picks up this time. “Fuck off,” he says. 

“Well now,” Billy drawls. “That’s just plain mean.” 

“Shit, sorry,” Steve says with a laugh. “I thought you were Dustin.” 

“Don’t ever say that again.” Billy says with great distaste. Steve can never tell if Billy honestly doesn’t like Dustin or if it’s just an act. “Hey, man, class got out early today. Do you wanna hang out right away?” 

Steve licks his lips. His roommates had left an hour ago, and the apartment’s still not as clean as Steve would like, but he’s not going to turn down a chance to spend more time with Billy. 

“Yeah,” he says. “Head on over.” 

“Great,” Billy says. There’s a pause, like he wants to say something else, but he hangs up a second later without saying goodbye. 

“Jackass,” Steve says to the dial tone, but it’s soft and fond. 

Billy’s there within ten minutes. He doesn’t even knock, just opens the door and saunters in like he owns the place. Steve’s in the middle of closing the blinds, and he glares as Billy kicks the door closed behind him. 

“This is still my house, asshole,” Steve says. 

“Oh, baby, you say the nicest things,” Billy says with a grin. 

He looks good today. He looks good every day, but today he’s wearing tight black jeans and a red shirt that’s unbuttoned halfway down his chest. He looks like he made an effort. 

The thought makes Steve step forward. Billy must be on the same wavelength, because they meet halfway for a hungry kiss. 

Billy’s a good kisser. Steve’s no rube at it, himself, but Billy takes kissing to a whole new level. He sinks his hands into Steve’s hair and pulls him in close, then lets his mouth slip open so he can flick his tongue against Steve’s teeth. He kisses like they’ve got all the time in the world, like he wants to explore Steve inside and out. He slips a hand down to settle on Steve’s waist while the other gently cups Steve’s jaw. 

“Hey,” Steve says when they draw apart. 

“Fucking dork,” Billy says, but he doesn’t step away. His hand slips from Steve’s jaw to the nape of his neck, where he idly plays with the stray hairs. Steve suppresses a shiver. 

“You like me,” Steve says. He slips his own hands on Billy’s hips; he likes this, being close enough to Billy that he can feel Billy’s breath fan across his face, close enough that their chests brush every time one of them shifts. It’s a quiet intimacy that he hasn’t had with anyone since he dated Nancy in high school. 

He still can’t believe that he feels like this about _Billy Hargrove_. Sure, after being possessed and destroying a mall because of a giant monster and Russians Billy had chilled out a bit, but he never really became friends with any of them, not the way Robin had. They’d had an understanding, and were civil with each other whenever they were around, but Billy ran in different circles than Steve. Billy was always aloof from the rest of the gang, even the kids, and Steve always kind of thought that Billy looked down on them. 

Until last month, when Billy had come to pick Max up from the Byers’ house and Steve had caught the look that Billy had sent him: the furtive side-eye that looked Steve up and down, the quick lick of lips that seemed unintentional, the way Billy had cut his eyes away right away before Steve could notice it. 

Steve had noticed it. Steve had noticed it big time. 

He pulls Billy in for another kiss and takes it slower this time. Billy tastes like mint and cigarettes, and he smells like cologne. Steve grins into the kiss; Billy definitely made an effort. 

“What?” Billy asks, pulling away. 

“Nothing,” Steve says. “You look nice.” 

Billy is still looking at him suspiciously, so Steve pulls him in for another quick kiss. 

“So, you’re early,” Steve says. 

“Wow,” Billy says. “King Steve can read a clock, someone alert the fucking presses.” 

“It’s amazing what a dick you are,” Steve says, wiggling out of Billy’s grasp. “I just mean that I didn’t start dinner yet.” 

“Dinner?” Billy’s eyebrows raise. “You planning on wining and dining me, Harrington?” 

Steve doesn’t tell Billy that he spent an hour at Mike’s last night, combing through Mrs Wheeler’s recipe books for something that he could make without burning it. Steve’s culinary expertise normally extends to boxed macaroni and cheese and taking pizza home from work at the end of his shift. 

He’s making roasted chicken and carrots and potatoes. He doesn’t think he can screw that up. He hopes he can’t. 

“Maybe,” Steve says. He hooks a finger through one of Billy’s belt loops and pulls him forward a step; Billy comes willingly. “But since there’s nothing on the stove to burn, I was thinking we could take this upstairs.” 

Billy hesitates, just long enough for Steve to notice, before he grins again and brings his hand up to tweak at Steve’s nipple. 

“Fucker!” Steve hisses, flinching away from the sharp pain. 

“I was promised dinner,” Billy says. “I was promised fucking _wooing, Harrington_. I don’t put out right away, I’m not that kind of girl.” 

“People who give me purple nurples don’t get anything,” Steve proclaims, even as he moves towards the kitchen. Billy follows him. 

“Who else is giving you purple nurples?” Billy asks. He leans against the kitchen counter and watches as Steve gets the chicken and vegetables out of the fridge. “I’d like to have a word with them.” 

“My nipples don’t belong to you,” Steve says in a prim voice, just to get Billy to laugh. It works, and Steve stops to watch the line of Billy’s throat as he throws his head back. He waits for Billy’s laughter to subside before he shoves the potatoes towards him. “Help me chop the vegetables. I’m not your maid.” 

“Now there’s a thought,” Billy says. He steps forward until he’s right behind Steve, then brings his arms up to the counter to cage Steve in. When he talks his voice is right next to Steve’s ear, low and rough. “You in a maid uniform, like the one from Clue. I bet you’d look sexy as shit, Harrington.” 

The idea is ridiculous, but Steve still feels his dick stirring at the thought of Billy being into it. “Only if you wear that green dress,” Steve says. “The one Scarlett wears.” 

Billy huffs a laugh at that. His nose drags along the back of Steve’s neck, and a second later he nips lightly at Steve’s skin. 

Steve is down to fuck right here in this kitchen. He’ll get his dick out in front of this raw chicken, he doesn’t even care. 

Billy noses his way along Steve’s neck until he gets right next to Steve’s ear. “Steve,” he says, voice low; Steve barely feels like he’s breathing. “Do you think that a maid does the cooking?” 

“Shut up,” he says. Billy pulls away, and Steve turns to glare at him. Billy only grins sharply back at him. “I’ve never had a maid, okay?” 

“Could’ve fooled me with that big fancy house of yours, Richie Rich,” Billy says, moving back towards the cutting board. 

Steve lets out a long breath and wills his dick to calm down. 

The food’s in the oven before long, even though Steve forgot to pre-heat it. He’s pretty sure it doesn’t matter. He hopes it doesn’t matter. He grabs some beer out of the fridge while Billy heads to the living room to look at the movies Steve had rented; he reappears in the kitchen doorway a second later with all three tapes in hand. 

"You got us options," Billy says, eyebrows raised smugly. "Damn, you really were serious about this wooing shit."

Steve flushes. "Shut up," he snaps. "I don't know why I bother being nice to you."

"Oh, you know why," Billy says. He winks at Steve before sauntering back to the living room; Steve pops open a beer and takes a deep gulp to try and cool himself off. 

When he gets to the living room Billy's popped one of the tapes in: it's Top Gun, which Steve knows they've both seen, but it had seemed like a movie Billy might like. Steve’s more than a little pleased that he was right. 

He plops down on the couch next to Billy, so close that they're pressed together from shoulder to thigh, and then Billy lifts his arm to wrap around Steve's shoulders and Steve rests a hand on Billy's thigh. 

Steve soaks it up. This is what he misses about dating a girl, not that he'd ever say that to Billy. He wishes he and Billy could do stuff like this all the time. He's a little surprised that Billy hadn't jumped his bones as soon as he was in the house, but Steve's not about to put an end to their cuddling by saying anything. 

It doesn't last forever. Billy gets restless, and pulls away from Steve after awhile, tapping his knee and rolling his shoulders. Steve keeps a hand on his thigh, though, and continues to watch the movie until eventually Billy says, "Talked to Susan yesterday," offhandedly. 

Steve knows it's actually a big deal, in the same way it'd be a big deal if Steve talked to his own dad. Much like Steve's dad was disappointed Steve hadn't followed in his footsteps and gone to college, Billy's dad thought he was wasting time at college by getting a degree in literature. As far as Steve knows Billy hasn't talked to his dad in years. 

"Oh yeah?" Steve says, just as casual as Billy. "How's she doing?"

"Fine," Billy says. "She wanted some birthday gift ideas for Max."

"Seventeen's a pretty big deal," Steve says neutrally. He waits a beat, then asks, "Was the talk okay?"

Billy taps his fingers against Steve's knee. "It was fine," he says. "We caught up, avoided talking about my dad. It was surprisingly easy."

Steve reaches a hand over to tangle his fingers with Billy's. Billy lets him hold hands for a minute before snorting and lightly shoving at Steve's shoulder. 

"Stop being a fucking girl," Billy says. 

Steve lightly shoves him back, then surprises Billy by twisting his body and swinging his leg up and over Billy's lap until Steve is straddling him. Billy blinks up at him. 

"I can do other things with my hands," Steve says with a grin.

Billy's eyes darken. "Fuck, yeah," he breathes. 

Steve leans in to kiss him. He nips at Billy's lips until Billy opens his mouth, and Steve teases his tongue along the tip of Billy's own, drawing back just slightly enough that Billy has to lean up to chase after him. Billy's hands are settled on Steve's hips, and Steve slips his hands around Billy's jaw as he deepens the kiss. Steve can feel Billy's heat like a fire brand: his lap under Steve's thighs, his chest heaving against Steve's, his hands tightening around Steve's hips. 

Steve slips his hands down, skittering along Billy's chest, and sinks to sit even further down until his ass is flush against Billy's lap. The change of position means that Steve can feel Billy's hard on even through his thick jeans; the thought makes Steve feel hot and charged. He pulls off Billy's lips, causing Billy to whine, but that soon changes to a groan as Steve sucks on the juncture of his neck and jaw. 

"Oh, fuck," Billy moans. 

Steve's own dick feels like it's about to burst out of his pants. The few handjobs they'd exchanged hadn't given Steve a good look at Billy's dick; it had been hands jammed underneath waistbands, fast and dirty. Steve wants to see Billy's dick. He wants to run his hands along the length of it, and he wants to taste it. 

"I want to go down on you," Steve mumbles into Billy's neck, not wanting to pull away from his skin. 

"Shit," Billy says. His voice sounds tight, and Steve can feel how hard he is against his ass. He shifts experimentally, and Billy's hitched groan shoots through his body like an electric shock. 

"Wait, wait," Billy says. Steve pulls back immediately to look at him. Billy's eyes are dark and hooded, and his lips are red and swollen. Steve wants to come on his face; he drags a hand across his own face so he can focus on what Billy's saying. "The food is gonna burn."

"The food," Steve repeats, without really hearing it. 

"Yeah, dipshit," Billy says. He pushes at Steve's shoulders until Steve tumbles off him and onto the couch. "It's gonna fucking burn, we gotta check it."

Steve blinks, trying to get his brain back online. "Yes," he says, a long moment later. "Food. Gotta get the food."

Billy leans in to give him another kiss, this time without any tongue, then hauls himself to his feet and disappears into the kitchen. 

Steve follows a minute later. His dick is still pressing painfully against his jeans, and he's half tempted to just shoved Billy against the counter and drop to his knees right then and there, food be damned. 

He runs a hand through his hair; he probably looks like a disheveled idiot. 

Billy's already got the pan out of the oven. The chicken looks a little dry and brown, and the vegetables are limp and mushy, but Steve's still proud. He wishes he had a Polaroid so he could take a picture. 

He grabs plates and cutlery while Billy grabs more beer, and they watch the rest of Top Gun while they eat. By the end of the movie they're both full and comfortable, slumped on the couch with their legs tangled together. It's dark outside, and with the blinds closed the room is quiet and intimate. 

Steve feels pretty fucking great. 

His plan, though, had included sex, and he's not about to abandon ship now. When the credits of the movie start playing Steve rolls over to face Billy. 

Billy, it seems, is already on board. He pushes Steve until he’s laying on the couch and rolls on top of him, hands on either side of Steve's head. Steve goes pliantly, more than okay with being manhandled. He waits for Billy to lean in and kiss him, but Billy doesn't. 

He looks at Steve, instead. In the dim light of the room Steve can't read his face, but Billy's eyes roam over him for a long moment.

"What?" Steve asks. "Do I have food on my face?"

"Nah," Billy says. His voice is barely above a whisper. Steve's about to say something else, but Billy dips his head and kisses him. 

Steve wants to live inside Billy's kisses. His entire body feels like it's on a livewire, sparking and shooting shocks that reverberate through him. Billy's weight settles against him, legs tangled, hips slotted together, chests pressed tightly. Steve gets a hand into Billy's hair, the other roaming across Billy's back. He manages to wiggle his fingers underneath Billy's shirt, and he takes the opportunity to feel Billy's warm skin. 

Billy's lips drag away from Steve's and down his chin until he's kissing a line along Steve's neck. Steve bares his throat, already feeling his cock harden in his jeans again. Billy's got a bit of stubble, and the scrape of it against Steve's smooth skin is right on the verge of painful that makes Steve gasp. 

"Billy," he says. He can feel Billy's own dick against his thigh, and Steve wants to get his hands on it. He lifts his hips a little, just trying to get a bit of pressure, and Billy moans into his mouth and humps his own hips down. Steve sucks in a harsh breath at the feeling of Billy's hips pressing against his dick. "Billy," he says again. 

Billy doesn't respond; he's too busy nudging Steve's collar aside with his nose and sucking on the bare skin of Steve's collarbone. Steve thrusts his hips again, just a little, chasing the feeling of pressure, and Billy thrusts down. 

Steve doesn't want to come in his pants. If this keeps up he's definitely going to come in his pants. 

"Billy," he says again. The hand resting in Billy's hair tightens, and Billy groans. "Let's go to my bedroom, man."

Billy lifts his head to suck Steve's tongue into his mouth. His hand slips down pat at Steve's hip. 

"C'mon," Steve pants. "My bed's way better for this."

Billy lifts his head. His mouth is already red and swollen, and he licks his lips seemingly unconsciously. Steve drags him back in for another kiss. 

He feels like a teenager again, like he’s addicted to the way Billy moans when Steve sweeps his tongue into his mouth. It’s like how he felt for Nancy way back when, like just being around her was heady and thrilling. He wants to be around Billy all the time. He wants to write Billy’s name in a notebook and draw a heart around it. 

Steve’s about to nut in his pants like he’s a teenager, too. 

He pushes Billy away; Billy’s body goes, but his lips stay attached to Steve’s until he’s half-hunched over the couch. Steve laughs into his mouth. 

“Let’s go,” he says. 

He wraps his fingers around Billy’s wrist and pulls him up the stair; they stumble over each other a few times as they go, but Billy doesn’t pull his hand away. 

Steve’s room, unlike the rest of the house, is spotless. He’d cleaned it this morning for the first time since moving in six months ago; hell, he’d done all his laundry. It’s even folded and put away. 

Billy doesn’t notice, not that Steve’s complaining. As soon as they’re in the bedroom Billy slams the door shut, then slams Steve against it. 

“Wait, man, wait,” Steve says with a laugh as Billy attacks his neck with his mouth. “I want to do something.” 

“We are doing something,” Billy mumbles against Steve’s skin. His hand snakes up to play with the hem of Steve’s shirt. 

“Yeah,” Steve says. “But I want to- Jesus.” 

Billy’s other hand cups around Steve’s cock. Even through his jeans Steve can tell he’s going to be addicted to the feeling of this. 

“I want to blow you,” Steve says. 

Billy instantly stills. His head is still bowed over Steve’s neck, close enough that Steve can hear the rasp of his breath. 

“What,” Steve says playfully, when Billy doesn’t move for a long second. “Too gay for you?” 

That gets Billy to snap his head up and glare at Steve. “Shut up and put that mouth of yours to other uses.” 

“That’s what I’ve been trying to do,” Steve complains. 

Billy grins at him, then steps back. Steve goes with him. He reaches out and unbuttons the rest of the buttons on Billy’s shirt - not that there are many left - before he pushes it off Billy’s shoulders. Billy pushes his pants off, then his boxers, and Steve has to take a long moment to stare. 

He knows Billy is good looking. It’s an objective fact: the world spins around the sun, day turns into night, Billy Hargrove is insanely attractive. Steve bets even a blind person would call Billy sexy. 

This, though; Steve can’t help but step forward to splay a hand across Billy’s abs. Billy laughs at him, but his dick still twitches at the contact. 

“Holy shit,” Steve says. “Skip jazzercise next time, dude, you’re putting me to shame.” 

Billy huffs another laugh and moves backward toward the bed, making a show of it. He doesn’t break eye contact as he sinks to sit down, then spreads his legs and leans back onto his hands. 

Steve gets into gear and whips his own shirt off, trying not to feel too bad about his scrawny chest and soft stomach in comparison to Billy, then shoves his own jeans off. He leaves his boxers on because he thinks that if he doesn’t get his hands on Billy right away his dick will explode. 

He kneels right in front of Billy and licks his lips. 

“Shit,” Billy says. He’s staring down at Steve like he’s seen Jesus in a water stain. 

Steve raises his hands and puts them on Billy’s knees, then slides them up Billy’s thighs, feeling the coarseness of Billy’s leg hair under his palms. Billy’s cock is flushed and standing straight up; Steve can’t believe he’s lucky enough that he gets to put his hands and mouth on it. 

He opens his mouth and leans forward, and then licks a stripe from the root to the tip. 

Billy's hand shoots out to grip Steve's shoulder. 

Steve stops and looks up. Billy's eyes are closed, and his entire body is tight, like he's holding himself still. 

Steve frowns as he sits back on his heels. 

"You okay?" he asks, which sounds inane considering Billy doesn't look okay. 

"Fine," Billy grits out. "Give me just a minute."

Steve's stomach plummets. He wonders if he fucked it up somehow, if he did something to make Billy look so pained. He'd thought that they were on the same page, but it's not like Steve hasn't been blindsided by his own stupidity about other people's feelings in the past.

"We don't have to-" he starts to say. 

"Shut up," Billy says. His voice sounds as tight as his body looks. After a second he exhales and opens his eyes, finding Steve instantly. He closes them again. 

"I'm trying-" Billy starts. It's like he has to drag the words out of himself. Steve waits. "I'm trying not to come, okay."

"Not to-" Steve repeats. He looks down at himself, then twists around to see if there's anything in his room that might be setting Billy off already. He doubts it's the poster of Magic Johnson he has hanging on his door. 

"Is this like," Steve says slowly, "a hair trigger thing?"

Steve’s starting to feel a little cold, and a lot uncomfortable, and a lot more worried. He’s still sitting pretty close to Billy, but he feels like he’s very far away. Like, Upside Down far away. He watches as Billy clenches and unclenches his hands, then takes a deep breath and opens his eyes again. 

“So,” Steve says. He crosses his arms over his chest. 

“Shit,” Billy says. He runs a hand over his face and hunches over himself. He looks miserable. “I fucked everything up.” 

“I mean,” Steve says. “I’m just confused, I guess.” It’s a bit of an understatement. 

Billy clenches his jaw and stares at the ground near Steve’s knees. “I’ve never done this before.” 

Steve can work with this. Billy’s never really talked about whether or not he’s been with guys before Steve; he knows that Steve definitely has been, but Billy’s not really the _open up about his feelings_ type on a good day. 

“Alright,” Steve says. He reaches his hand out, moving slow so Billy can stop him if he wants, before settling a hand on Billy’s bare knee and brushing his thumb over the coarse hair: back and forth and back and forth. “I mean, it’s the same as with a girl, so there’s no need to be nervous.” 

Billy jaw somehow gets even more tense; Steve’s afraid he’s going to start breaking some teeth soon. 

“I mean,” Billy grits out, “that I’ve never done-” he waves a hand around vaguely. “This is all-” 

“Wait,” Steve says. “Are you trying to say you’re a _virgin_?” 

He’s aware his voice is too loud. He’s aware that he sounds needlessly incredulous and also like a little bit of an idiot. It’s just that he can’t stop himself from rearing back with his mouth hanging open like Billy’s just told him his dick opens up like a demodogs face. 

“Okay,” Billy tells the ground. “I’m gonna put my clothes back on now.” 

“Wait, no,” Steve says, scrambling back forward until he’s directly in front of Billy again. “No, nothing’s ruined or anything, Billy. I’m just trying to get my head around all of this because we just went from like, zero to five hundred or whatever. I’m recalibrating.” 

Billy snorts. It sounds wet and gross, but Steve doesn’t say anything. “ _Recalibrating_. Stop hanging out with the creepy kids, dude.” 

Steve looks at him. Billy looks back. 

It’s really weird and awkward. 

“I have a lot of questions,” Steve says. “Like, so many.” 

Billy seems to get even smaller, which isn’t what Steve had wanted. He nods and looks like he wants to be anywhere but here, which is about as sexy as dry humping a cactus. 

“First question,” Steve says. Billy looks at him resolutely. “Can I put my mouth on your dick now?” 

It startles Billy into sitting up. His glorious, magnificent dick is now small and soft - not, Steve notes, that it makes it any less glorious or magnificent - but it twitches as Billy looks at Steve. 

“Please?” Steve adds. “That was question number two, by the way.” 

Billy doesn’t move or say anything for the longest second, and Steve just about has a heart attack circling through all the ways this night has not gone the way he planned, but then something in Billy’s face imperceptibly softens. 

“I always did say in high school you were gagging for my dick, Harrington,” Billy says, and Steve hears the _please blow me now_ underneath the emotional constipation. 

Steve settles into the groove of Billy’s thighs again; just his hands going back on Billy’s knees is enough to get Billy to start thickening up again. Steve’s dick also starts swelling, like a pavlovian reaction. 

He slides his hands up Billy’s thighs, then keeps going until one rests at the base of Billy’s cock. It’s a good dick, Steve thinks fondly. He strokes up, then rests his thumb right under the head. 

“Try not to come right away,” he says teasingly, and Billy huffs an annoyed scoff that turns into a groan when Steve leans forward to take Billy’s dick right into his mouth. 

Steve likes sucking cock. The first cock he sucked was in freshman year of college - before Steve had dropped out - and it was a great time. He likes how it feels, and how it tastes salty and funky all at once, and how the other person makes noises and grabs his hair. It’s a great experience. 

Sucking Billy’s cock blows all the other times out of the water. Steve’s only bobbed his head down about three times, and Billy’s thighs are already shaking and straining. He’s letting out noises that Steve thinks he might not even notice he’s making; grunts and hitched breaths that Steve never hears in porn. It’s great. It’s amazing. 

He adds his hand into the mix, too, stroking with the same cadence that he’s sucking, and Billy’s arms give out. He falls back against the bed, and Steve takes the time to pop off his dick and laugh at him. 

“Shut up,” Billy says. His face and chest are red and sweaty, and his voice is rough. Steve wants to keep this mental image for as long as he can, like a polaroid inside his brain. 

“You wanna come soon?” Steve asks teasingly. His hand is still moving up and down BIlly’s dick in a steady pattern, and now that Steve’s mouth isn’t on him Billy’s hips start thrusting, too. 

It’s sweet. It’s really fucking sweet that he tried to keep himself as still as possible so he wouldn’t choke Steve. Steve wants to completely sexually destroy him. 

“No,” Billy says sourly. He throws an arm across his face. “I’m not a teenager, I’m not gonna fucking shoot off within three seconds, asshole.” 

“Not even if I say please?” Steve asks, just to be a shit. Billy lifts his head to look at Steve, so he puts on a stupid hangdog face. He even pouts his lip a little. “Please?” 

Billy comes. 

Steve’s honestly not sure who’s more surprised. He’s going to say himself, since Billy’s come shoots straight onto his face, striping across his cheeks and chin. Billy’s a good contender for second place, though, because as soon as his body stops coating Steve’s face with semen he covers his face with his hands and turns red enough that he’d put a lobster to shame.

“Huh,” Steve says. His hand is still on Billy’s dick. 

“Oh my god,” Billy says quietly, like he’s talking to himself instead of Steve. “Oh god. Fuck.” 

“Huh,” Steve says again. He carefully takes his hand off Billy’s softening dick.

Billy rolls off Steve’s bed. He starts rooting around for his clothes, which is completely unacceptable. 

“Wait,” Steve says. He clambers to his own feet; a small blob of come drops onto his shoulder. Billy stares at it, looking horrified. “Please don’t go.” 

“Steve,” Billy says, dragging his eyes up to Steve’s. “I will honestly say this is the most fucking humiliating night of my fucking life. I want to go home and fucking forget it ever happened.” 

Steve nods and tries to put on a serious face. He thinks the come is making it hard to pull off, though. “Okay,” he says. “You can do that. Or- just hear me out, or, you can stay and take a shower with me.” 

Billy stares at him. Steve stares right back. If Billy leaves there’s a strong possibility that Steve might cry. He wishes that he could tell what Billy’s thinking, or feeling, but Billy’s face is tight and impassive. 

“Fine,” Billy says after a long moment. 

Steve practically falls over in relief. 

The trek to the bathroom is silent, and Steve starts the shower and then dunks his face into the sink to at least wash the come off. He strips off his boxers and steps into the shower, where Billy’s already standing awkwardly in the corner like a loser. 

“Did you know,” Steve says conversationally, “that the second time I had sex with Nancy I thrust in at a weird angle and my dick like, popped?” 

“Jesus,” Billy says. 

Steve nods. “Yeah, it hurt. We had to stop having sex because it hurt so much.” 

“I know what you’re doing,” Billy says. 

“Talking to my boyfriend?” Steve asks innocently. He reaches for the soap and lathers himself up, then after a second thought, lathers Billy up, too. Billy seems startled by Steve’s soapy hands smoothing across his chest, but he allows it all the same. 

“You don’t have to be nice to me,” Billy says. “That was fucking embarrassing, Harrington.” 

Steve gently pushes at his shoulder to turn him around and washes up his back, too. He angles the water to spray the soap off, then crowds against Billy’s back and leans in to settle his chin on Billy’s shoulder. The warm water is spraying directly on his back and his soft cock is nestled against the small of Billy’s back; Steve feels like he’s about to go boneless. 

“Here’s a secret,” he says, just a bit louder than a whisper so Billy can hear him above the water. “I like being nice to you.” 

Billy shivers, despite the warm water. 

“Here’s another secret,” Steve says. He brings his arms around Billy, hands resting against Billy’s toned and muscled stomach. “We can try again. And again, and again, until we get it right.” 

Billy very noticeably relaxes. He tips his head back onto Steve’s shoulder, and Steve noses at his cheek. 

It’s quiet. There’s the spattering of the water, and the hum of the bathroom fan, and then nothing else but Steve and Billy. The heavy shower curtain mutes the yellow bathroom light; it feels like it’s just the two of them, like their entire world has shrunk down to this shower, to just them. 

Steve drags his nose along Billy’s shoulder, then his cheekbone; he can feel when Billy smiles. 

“Can I ask you something?” he whispers. Billy doesn’t even stiffen in response, so he must be feeling about as good as Steve. “I don’t care about the virgin thing, man, like, at all. But in high school everyone knew your reputation. You had a new girl on your arm every week.” 

Billy sighs. “Yeah, I know. It was all bullshit. I made out with a few girls but I’m- I’m not like you, Harrington.” 

“Hmm,” Steve says. His thumb starts to draw a circle against Billy’s stomach. “A slut? Is that we’re getting at, here?” 

Billy laughs, low and quiet. “Shut up. I mean I don’t like both. I’m just-” he stops and takes a deep breath. “I’m just gay.” 

Steve tightens his arms around Billy. “But there were no guys between high school and now? Because I gotta tell you, Billy, I’ve seen your face. I bet you can get anyone you want to wet their panties at the drop of a hat.” 

“Well,” Billy says slowly. “There was a guy I liked in high school. A fucking _crush_ , I guess. And then I kept liking him after high school, but I didn’t want to get caught being gay, so I kinda didn’t do anything about it.” 

“What happened to the guy?” Steve asks, idly curious. He remembers Billy in high school: cocky and mouthy and mean. He’s still all of that, but toned down and smoothed out, like someone’s worn away at all the rough edges. Steve has no clue what kind of guy would’ve caught Billy’s eye back then. 

Billy lets out a long sigh, then says, “He’s currently getting me to reveal a whole bunch of cheesy shit.” 

Steve blinks. He lifts his head to look at Billy, and Billy rolls his head back to meet Steve’s gaze. 

“That’s why it happened so fast,” Billy says. He’s the one whispering now. “If it was anyone else I might’ve been able to last, but it’s you, babe.”

Steve’s heart might squeeze out of his chest. He drops his head onto Billy’s shoulder and presses a kiss, then a second one, until he’s kissing a line across Billy’s shoulders and onto the other side; Billy obligingly rolls his head to accommodate Steve and then sighs again, soft and low, like it’s the nicest thing he’s ever felt. 

Steve’s going to crack apart from feeling so much. 

He nudges Billy’s temple with his nose again. “We can try the _again thing_ , now.” 

“Yeah,” Billy breathes. 

Steve goes back to pressing kisses to his shoulders, and as he does he trails his hands down Billy’s stomach - Billy’s light happy trail tickling at his fingers - and even further down until Billy’s dick is stirring in his hands. 

Billy’s breath hitches. 

Steve’s dick is getting into the swing of things, too. He grips Billy’s hips with one hand and uses the other to slowly stroke up and down. The water keeps his hand nice and slick, and after a second Billy starts to push his hips up into Steve’s hand, which has the added benefit of grinding his back against Steve’s own dick. 

It’s so quiet that Steve can hear every groan, every hitch of breath, every grunt. Billy rolls his head back onto Steve’s shoulder, and Steve takes the opportunity to press a sloppy, open-mouthed kiss to Billy’s cheek and the slope of his jaw. 

“Tell me about your crush,” Steve whispers. 

“Fuck off,” Billy says, voice almost breathless. Steve grips him harder, just enough for Billy to feel it, and Billy rewards him with a quiet moan. 

“C’mon,” Steve says. “What about me did it for you?” 

Billy bites off another moan and arches his back against Steve. It’s Steve’s turn to grunt at the contact, and he takes his hand off Billy’s hip so he can wrap it around Billy’s chest, drawing them closer. 

“Was it the hair?” Steve asks. “The polo shirts? Or was it the Scoops Ahoy sailor uniform?” 

“Shit,” Billy breathes, as Steve’s thumb snags at the skin right under the head of his cock. 

Steve noses along Billy’s neck, trying not to get Billy’s wet hair in his mouth. 

“Maybe it was all the basketball,” Steve muses. He starts to thrust forward when Billy thrusts back, his cock slipping against Billy’s back. He drops his head to Billy’s shoulder and pants. “Those tiny shorts. Shirts versus skins.” 

“Steve,” Billy moans. They’re practically frantic at this point, moving together in one frenzied motion. Steve relishes Billy’s hot, wet skin rubbing all along his chest, how his dick feels trapped up against the small of his back and the swell of his ass. 

“I did it for you?” Steve pants against Billy’s shoulder. “My scrawny little ass get you going?” 

Billy jerks, and then he's coming, a long stripe against the wall. His breath is harsh and panting, and after he’s done coming he slumps down in Steve’s arms. 

“God,” Steve says. He stops thrusting against Billy’s back; he backs up and gets a hand on his own dick, furiously fucking up into his fist as he stares at Billy’s ass. 

Billy turns around suddenly, and before Steve can react he shoves Steve’s hand off his dick and replaces it with his own. 

“Okay,” Steve says, like an idiot. 

“Fuck,” Billy says. “Come on, please, fucking come for me, babe. Shit.” 

He leans forward and catches Steve’s mouth in a kiss that’s instantly filthy, teeth clacking together. His hand is hot and heavy on Steve’s cock, stroking him with a fervor that’s almost on the border of painful. 

Steve comes right into Billy’s hand. 

“Holy shit,” Billy says, staring down at how his hand is completely covered with Steve’s come. “Holy fuck.” 

“Not to alarm you,” Steve says, trying to catch his breath, “but you just ruined me for sex for the rest of my life.” 

Billy’s kissing him almost before he’s done with the sentence. The shower is filled with steam at this point, lazily wrapping around the two of them tangled together. Steve wishes he could stay like this forever. 

Forever turns out to be another two or three minutes before the hot water starts to run out.

They stumble down the hallway together, clad in threadbare towels; it's one hundred percent less awkward than before. Steve feels soft and pliant, and he keeps snagging his fingertips against Billy's just because he can.

“It really doesn’t bother you?” Billy asks, halfway through putting on his jeans. 

Steve pauses, shirt in hand, and looks at Billy. “What?” 

“The whole-” Billy waves his arm. 

“The virgin thing?” Steve asks, just to make sure. Billy ducks his head as he nods. 

Steve’s across the room before he even thinks about it. He pulls Billy in for a kiss; this time, it’s soft and light, almost chaste. 

“It just means that you don’t know how bad I am at sex,” Steve says. Billy laughs. “I’m talking like, seventh-grade level awful, Billy, and you’ll never find out.” 

“Fucking loser,” Billy says as he laughs. He throws an arm around Steve’s shoulders and pulls him in. They stand like that, hugging, breathing in the same air. 

“I’m not tired yet,” Steve mumbles into Billy’s hair. “That’s- you’re staying tonight, right?” 

Billy hums. “Only if you cook me pancakes in the morning,” he says. 

Steve laughs lightly. “We both know I can’t cook pancakes.” 

Billy pulls back to look at Steve. “Then I guess I’ll have to cook you pancakes.” 

“I literally have half of a pizza and some Lucky Charms in my kitchen,” Steve tells him honestly. 

“Wow,” Billy says. “You’re pretty shit at this wooing thing, Harrington.” 

“How about,” Steve says, “I get you another beer and we put on a movie. Is that equal worth to breakfast pancakes?” 

Billy pretends to think about it for so long that Steve has to hit his arm. 

“Sounds fine,” Billy says. “But only because you’re cute.” 

Steve smiles at his back as he follows Billy down the stairs. 

Steve doesn’t really pay attention to the movie. He’s curled up around Billy - insisting that he’d be big spoon, while Billy had rolled his eyes and crossed his arms but eventually gave in - and every once in awhile he’ll lift his beer to his lips. Billy’s pliant and practically boneless underneath him, and he’s watching the movie in rapt attention. 

There are times that Steve wishes, desperately and fervently, that he can share this part of his life with Nancy and Jonathan. He doesn’t think they’d stop being friends with him just for being into both guys and girls, but anything that could cause divide between them feels like it would be insurmountable. They’ve been through so much, and he already misses them while they’re away at college. Adding anything else that might cause a fracture - even a stress fracture so small it’s invisible - is enough to send Steve into panic mode. 

The thing is, he has Robin to talk about this with. She and her girlfriend live together, and most people just assume that they’re roommates. She and Steve have a small group of friends in Hawkins - very small, because this town is a joke - that are all some flavor of gay that can be trusted. Steve’s not particularly close with any of them besides Robin, but he knows that if he walked in tomorrow and told them about a romantic night with his boyfriend they’d be happy for him. 

He wishes that he could know for certain if Nancy and Jonathan, or any of the kids, would be the same. He wishes he could call Nancy tomorrow and tell her about how he and Billy cooked together, or call Dustin and laugh off his begging questions about sex. 

“It was the hospital,” Billy says out of nowhere, jostling Steve out of his melancholy thoughts. 

“What?” Steve asks. 

Billy doesn’t look at him; he’s staring straight at the television. “It was the hospital, after shit happened at the mall. You came to see me.” 

“Yeah,” Steve says. “I remember.” 

“It was nice,” Billy says. “It was- you still had every right to hate me, but you came to see me to make sure I was okay. The only other people who did that were Hopper and Mrs Byers.” 

Steve’s quiet for a second. “That’s why you liked me?” 

“I still like you, dickhead,” Billy says. He finally turns to look at Steve, his eyes dark and intense. “And it was like- you’re a good guy. You’re just- you’re you. And Max liked you, too, so.” 

“So,” Steve repeats. He thinks for a second, then asks, “Does it bother you that I didn’t like you back then?” 

Billy snorts. “Why would that bother me? You like me now, right?” 

Steve looks down at him. He’s so fucking beautiful, and stupid, and infuriating, and funny. Steve’s got a weird feeling that what he feels about Billy might just blossom into something a whole lot bigger if it’s given the chance. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I like you now.” 

The house is dark and quiet, and Steve tightens his hold around Billy. 

They watch the movie.


End file.
